"Daddy!"
"You know what I mean. Only the girls are staying the night, right?"
"Of course."
"Right." Her father pushed his wire-framed glasses higher on his nose, squared his shoulders, and looked at her mother. They both glanced around the living room one last time-as if to remember it-and then, like a pair of fatalistic soldiers, they turned and marched out the door.
"Don't have much faith in us, do they?" Michael said, looking after them.
"It's the first time I've had a party while they've been away for the weekend," said Jenny. "That they know about," she added thoughtfully.
When she looked back, Tom had the box open.
"Oh-" Jenny said. And that was all she said. Because Tom was lifting out sheets of thick, glossy tagboard, printed in colors so vibrant they glowed. Jenny saw doors and windows, a porch, a turret. Shingles.
"It's a dollhouse," said Summer. "No, I mean one of those paper thingies, like you get in the big flat books and cut out. A paper house."
Not a game, Jenny thought. And not dangerous. Just a kids' toy. She felt a wave of relaxation soften her, and when Audrey called from the kitchen that the food was ready, she went almost dreamily.
Tom was suitably surprised and impressed at the Chinese dinner, and the fact that Audrey was responsible for it.
"You can cook!"
"Of course I can cook. Why is it that everyone assumes I'm a mere social ornament?" She looked at him from under spiky lashes and smiled.
Tom smiled back, maintaining eye contact. Audrey kept flirting as she served him, smiling up at him, allowing her fingers to touch his as she handed him a plate. But when he moved away, she slanted a grim, significant glance at Jenny. You see? that glance said.
Jenny returned the look benevolently. Tom was always nice to other girls, and it didn't bother her. It didn't mean anything. She was feeling very pleased with the world as they all filled their plates and went back to the living room.
There was no formal dining. They all sat around the coffee table, some on leather footstools, some directly on the Mexican paved tiles. Jenny was surprised that the white box with the sheets of tagboard wasn't already put aside.
"You got some scissors?" asked Zach. "Actually, an X-Acto knife would be better. And a metal ruler, and glue."
Jenny stared at him. "You're going to make it?"
"Sure, why not? It looks like a good model."
"It's cute," Summer said and giggled.
"You've got to be kidding," Jenny said. "A paper house ..." She looked around for support.
"It's a game," Dee said. "See, there are instructions on the back of the lid. Scary instructions." She shot a barbaric smile around the room. "I like them."
Michael, with bits of spring roll hanging out of his mouth, looked alarmed.
"But how can you play a game with a paper house?" Jenny felt her voice going weak again as she saw the way Tom was looking at her. The way only Tom could look-charming, persuasive, and tragic. It was all a put-on, but Jenny could never resist. "Oh, all right, you big baby," she said. "If you really want it. I should have gotten you a rattle and a pacifier, too." Shaking her head, she went off to fetch the scissors.
They put the model together as they ate, occasionally getting grease on the tagboard, gesturing with chopsticks. Tom supervised, naturally. Zach did a lot of the cutting; he'd had practice matting the photographs he took. Jenny watched his careful, clever fingers transform the flat sheets of paper into a three-foot-high Victorian house and was forced into admiration.
It had three floors and a turret and was open in front like a dollhouse. The roof was removable. Sheet after sheet had to be cut out to make all the chimneys and cornices and balconies and eaves, but no one got tired of working, and only Michael complained. Tom seemed delighted with the whole thing. Even Audrey, whom Jenny would have thought far too sophisticated to enjoy this, lent an experienced hand.
"Look, here's some furniture to put inside-are you done with the first floor, Zach? You see, this is the parlor, and here's a little parlor table. Gothic Revival, I think. Mother has one. I'll put it... here."
"Here's a sort of Oriental screen thing," Summer said. "I'll put it by the table for the dolls to look at."
"There aren't any dolls," said Jenny.
"Yes, there are," Dee said and grinned. She'd curled her long legs up and was reading the instructions to herself. "And they're us. It says we each get a paper doll for a playing piece, and we draw our own face on it, and then we move the pieces through the house, trying to get to the turret at the top. That's the game."